I Promise
by feelsinthetardis
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. Sherlock is finding it hard to keep John safe. John is finding it hard to keep himself alive.
1. 44 ERROR

Just one more miracle for me Sherlock. Don't be…dead." John managed to choke out. "Just for me, just stop it. Just stop this." He couldn't handle it any more, breaking down in tears.

Sherlock watched from the distance. Could he do this, could he actually leave John like this?  
John tried to gather himself together and left the tombstone. He got halfway towards Mrs Hudson before turning around and walking back to Sherlock's grave.

"I-I love you, Sherlock." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath "I know you don't feel 'sentiment' and I know you're d...But I love you."

Sherlock choked back a sob. Damn it John, shut up! If John kept up like this, his resolve would crack completely. He never knew... How could HE have not known?

John gave up and sat down. He talked for hours. He talked about everything he needed to say, everything about Sherlock he loved, everything he had pretended to be annoyed by and how much he loved Sherlock. He wasn't sure at what point he had started crying, and frankly he didn't care, or even notice. He cried himself to sleep still whispering that he loved Sherlock and he always will.

Sherlock sat, watching John for the last three hours and forty-seven minutes, tears silently streaming down his face. When he was sure the man was asleep, he did the stupidest thing he could have done. He silently crept over to the man, kissed him on the temple, and slid a piece of paper in his hand. A phone number.

John woke up in the morning with a piece of paper in his hand. He read the phone number and excitedly dialled it, praying that this was a sign. A sign from Sherlock. After one ring, the call was terminated. John heart sank into his stomach and he gave up. Gave up on everything

**[44 ERROR: This phone is no longer in working service, if you feel you have reached this message in error, please try your *text message* again.]**

Sherlock stared at the phone. One call and this could all be over. One call, and he could be back with the man he loved. One call and that man could be dead. This had to be done right.


	2. A Lot Can Happen in A Month

One month later, John was drinking more than Harry ever did and was sleeping in Sherlock's room every night. He weighed over two stone lighter because he just didn't see the point in eating, not when Sherlock couldn't. He spent his phone bill by either dialling that rejected phone number or dialling his ringtone and listening to old messages from Sherlock.  
"John, tell Lestrade to arrest his mother's brother's first son if he has a purple bucket."  
"John, pick up some food from Angelo's. He knows what I like."  
"John, thankyou. For saving my life today. I..."

Mycroft's men kept tabs on John for Sherlock. Eventually, it got too bad. He needed John to know, because he needed John to live.

**[44 ERROR: This phone is no longer in working service, John, if you feel you have reached this message in error, please try your *text message* again.]**

Sherlock regretted it as soon as he sent it. Dammit, he couldn't let his heart rule his head!

John saw the message and almost threw the phone against the wall. How dare someone from a phone company track his number and find his name. How dare they taunt him with false hope. How dare they find a way to break a man even when he has been broken into a million pieces. John walked over to the cabinets where the sleeping pills his therapist had given him were. He picked up the bottle, walked towards the kitchen like he did every night, poured himself a glass of water and walked back to Sherlock's room. This time, he swallowed all the remaining pills. He wanted to die inside Sherlock's room, with Sherlock's scarf, in Sherlock's bed. It was only a matter of time, until Dr John Watson was no more.

Sherlock sat forward, steepling his fingers, desperately hoping it would be enough. That if John knew, then he could hold on until it was time. John was smart. John would know.

The last thing John saw were the rare photos of Sherlock smiling, from the newspapers. John smiled back and let his eyes close.

John stretched out a hand, just to call that number one last time on the damned phone Mycroft got him. He didn't even need to open his eyes, he knew exactly which buttons to press, he knew exactly where the phone was. He called Sherlock, one last time. But Sherlock was making himself coffee. He missed the call. And Sherlock never checks his voicemail.

"Sherlock? It's me, John. I'll see you soon, mate."

**I am afraid you are needed at home. Now. The plane is on its way. -MH**

"And when I do, I can tell you everything."

**Why? I cannot risk it. -SH**

"Everything I've needed to tell you for so long."

**John is about to be admitted to hospital. I have called for an ambulance. -MH**

"I love you, Sherlock."

**I will be there. -SH**

Shit. Sherlock never cursed, not even in his head. But John. John, oh God, what had happened to his John. Did someone know that he had given him his new phone number? Did Moriarty's men get to him? It was his fault. This was all his fault. _Goddammit, Sherlock! _He told himself. _You could've kept him safe but you had to go let your stupid, useless, terrible heart rule your head. You never think of anyone except yourself! _But he knew that was wrong. For the past three or four months, he hadn't been able to think of anyone else except John.

Sherlock landed in Mycroft's private airport, merely three hours after he had received the call. Mycroft was standing there, with that infernal umbrella.  
"Come Sherlock, we haven't much time." They rode to the hospital in a heavy silence. Upon arriving, Mycroft put his arm on Sherlock's  
"Understand, brother, it isn't what you think." Sherlock glanced at his brother, and rushed out of the car. What did he think? He believed John to be attacked. If it isn't what he thinks... Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. John. He needed to get to John. He burst in the hospital doors, ran past reception, to IR unit. He looked around frantically. John...

John opened his eyes and saw the expected. He was in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV. Then he turned his head and saw the unexpected. Sherlock was holding his hand. Sherlock Holmes, the consulting dectective was holding his hand.  
"No." John said quietly.

"NO!" He got out of bed, pulled the IV out of his body without even flinching. Sherlock doubted that he felt it at all. Is this what had happened to John? He had been so hurt that he couldn't even feel anything anymore? John ran up all the stairs with Sherlock in pursuit. He reached the roof of the hospital and he walked towards the edge.  
"JOHN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Sherlock shouted after him.  
"IT'S NOT FAIR! YOU'RE DEAD! AND I SHOULD BE TOO!" John moved closer to the edge and took a deep breath "Clearly, I didn't take enough pills, but this will work. It worked for you."  
"John, I'm right here. Don't do this, John, please." John shook his head  
"No. I saw you die! You are dead! And this...this is just cruel."

Sherlock choked back a scream. Suddenly and with extreme clarity he understood how John must have felt that day, seeing him up here.  
"John, I am going to touch you, all right? I am going to touch your arm."

John just looked at Sherlock with eyes filled with despair. It hurt Sherlock to see John this way. Hurt him more than John would ever know. He wanted to protect him. Protect him forever. And in trying to do that, he had destroyed him. He stretched out his hand and gently pulled John back from the edge. John's eyes widened  
"Sherlock?" Sherlock nodded and pulled John into a hug. John clung to Sherlock's shirt as tightly as he could and sobbed into his chest.  
"It's you. It's really you. Christ, Sherlock! I thought you were dead!" Sherlock stroked John's hair and whispered  
"I know. I know. I am sorry, I am so sorry. But everything is going to be fine, John. Trust me." Sherlock gently lead John back to his room, where John almost immediately passed out from shock and exhaustion.  
"Don't leave me, Sherlock. God, don't you leave me again." John whispered  
"I will be here when you wake up. I promise." Sherlock sobbed, finally letting himself feel all the emotions he had been trying so hard to repress over the last month.

He said it over and over again, "I'll be here, I'll be here. I promise, I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, John. I'll be here."


	3. They're Trying to Burn Out My Heart

**You need to leave. Now. -MH**

Sherlock looked down at his phone.  
"Dammit, Mycroft. John. How are you feeling? Nevermind, we will get a doctor on the plane. We need to run. Now."  
"Sherlock, what?"  
"There was a reason I stayed away. Do you think I wanted to be away from you? I have just risked both our lives, ironically, to save our lives, but now we must run."  
"Sherlock, I-" Sherlock cut him off by pulling him off the bed and running. John was so confused, but so happy that Sherlock was back that he didn't ask anymore questions. They ran into a field and boarded a plane where Mycroft was drinking tea.

"Cutting it a bit close as usual, dear brother. How do you do, Dr. Watson?"  
"I, uh, what?" John spluttered. As per usual, anything to do with the Holmeses was very confusing.  
"If you make your way to the back of the plane, Dr. Evans will see you now. Sherlock, a word." John gripped Sherlock's arm tightly, shaking his head quietly.  
"Mycroft, It can wait. I will be with John for the moment."  
"I'm not going to leave you, Sherlock. I haven't seen you for months. You can't leave me now." John said quietly. Sherlock shook his head"I'm not going anywhere, John. I'm just going to talk to Mycroft about something I'll explain to you later. Go see the doctor." John stood still  
"You're not going to jump off the plane, are you?" Sherlock laughed until he realised John was being serious.  
"I promise I won't jump off the plane, John. Now go see the doctor."  
"You better not." John said firmly before he turned around and left.

"Sherlock, he cannot be here. You are putting both your lives at risk."  
"Obviously his life was at risk when I was gone, Mycroft."  
"Sherlock, this will not end well."  
"I am aware of that Mycroft, but I can't just leave him, not again. I promised."  
John came back just in time to hear Mycroft harshly say  
"Well, then you'll just have to break your promise. He lost you once, he can lose you again. And this time, dear brother, you must do it properly. No softening up and giving him clues."

Sherlock heard the gasp behind him, and watched as John slank down against the wall.  
"You promised, you're here. I can see you, I can feel, and you promised."  
"Shit, Mycroft! Don't you have a heart?"  
"No, and you used to not have one either." Mycroft said coldly  
"I am not leaving him, Mycroft! Look at what has happened to him when I was gone!" He shouted. He closed his eyes for a few seconds then stared directly at Mycroft.  
"Look at what has happened to me when I left him."

Sherlock rushed over too John, quickly putting his arms around the man, shuddering when he realized just how skinny John had become.  
"I promised, and I will keep it, John. Don't worry, John. I'm here right? You can feel me, and I feel you. We are both here. We are both alive and here, John." John stood up and tried to regain his composure.  
"Right then. Is someone going to tell me why I- Why we're here?" Mycroft started to talk, but Sherlock cut him off  
"Excuse me, but I will be doing the explaining, Mycroft."  
"John, Moriarty has a very loyal network." John nodded  
"Yes, I know that much for myself thanks.  
"And to put it very simply, they are trying to burn out my heart. Namely, you. But I won't let that happen."  
Sherlock pulled John into a tight hug, John clinging on to Sherlock's shirt just to make sure he was real. They stayed like that for a few moments until John broke the silence  
"God, Sherlock have you eaten at all?" Sherlock nodded. "It doesn't look like it." Sherlock smiled sadly  
"I did tell you that I'd be lost without my blogger."

"But wait, what do you mean? They're trying to burn out me?" Sherlock smiled  
"Burn out my heart. And my heart is you." John suddenly forgot how to breathe.  
"Wh-what do you mean?"  
"John, I care for you. I have always cared for you. You are the first, the only person to make me feel...sentiment. I could spend years talking and I wouldn't even begin to cover everything I feel for you. In short, I love you."

John didn't know how to respond. So he did the best he could and simply said  
"I-I love you too." Sherlock smiled and slowly leant in and kissed John. Claimed him. Claimed him for his own. His heart was singing. John Watson loved him! John was his and he was John's. John wished that the moment would never end.

They broke apart when an announcement was played over the sound system  
"We have landed. Prepare to depart."

Mycroft's car was taking them to Baker Street  
"Has Sherlock explained everything, John? Now do you understand, why you cannot keep in contact?" asked Mycroft. John shook his head  
"I will fight. I will fight alongside Sherlock for as long as we have to." Mycroft sighed.  
"It's not safe, John!"  
"Fighting in the army wasn't safe either, but I did that! This is just another adventure." John smiled  
"You could die, John. I believe that that is not an adventure!"  
"Every adventure has risks." They had arrived at 221B and were standing at the door.  
"John, my brother cares deeply for you and I care about him. Can you even begin to imagine how he will feel if he has to stand over your bleeding body? If he has to see you dead?" Mycroft persisted  
"Mycroft! Don't say-" Sherlock started but John cut him off.  
"Yes, actually. I can." He said quietly. Mycroft's eyes grew wide with understanding.  
"But that will never happen, John." Sherlock said firmly  
"Don't you mean, it will never happen _again_?" John said coldly.  
"John, I-" John walked into the apartment and slammed the door.


	4. Because I Lied Too

John leant against the door, trying to take in all that had happened. It had been the best and the worst day. But then again, he got Sherlock. Amazing, brilliant, clever Sherlock._ 'Hurtful Sherlock. Lying Sherlock_.' The back of his mind whispered. _'He made you feel all that pain. He made you want to die.' _Only without him, he protested, but the damage was done. Did he even want to see Sherlock? After everything Sherlock had done? Did he really want to spend time with that man who had caused him so much pain? Sherlock, a man who could switch emotions like blinking, who could manipulate you with a smile, who could tear you down with a few words. What if he was lying earlier? What if he was faking it to get something? But what? It couldn't be information. Maybe he was trying to get John to trust him. But why? What if…Oh. Oh God, no. John sunk down to the floor. What if it was all an experiment. To test emotions. To play with trust. To toy with love. To watch the horror on John's face as he leaked blood through a wound made with Sherlock's knife.

Sherlock stared at Mycroft.  
"Just go."  
"Brother, I must insist-"  
"Go, Mycroft."  
"As you wish."

Sherlock leant against the door, trying to take in all that had happened. He had almost lost John. John had almost slipped through his fingers, while he was desperately trying to hold on. He thought back to that night at the pool with Moriarty. He would always remember that first moment when he felt his world rip apart. That one moment when he truly doubted John. When he thought that John was behind it all. That he was going to have to kill John. He thought that was the worst moment of his life. There had been a strong contender today, though. He was going to make sure he would never see that ever again. No one could hurt John. Not him, not Moriarty, not anyone. John was his.

John slowly made his way up the stairs and curled up on the couch and thought. Thought about what he should do. Whether he should let Sherlock in, or refuse him to come near John. Just in case. He remembered every lie and disguise Sherlock had made up. He had been an innocent vicar, a distraught mourner, a new tenant and so much more. He could pretend to be a loving man. That would be easy. That would be very easy. But why would he save John? Surely, it would just prove what people would do for love. Unless…_'He was trying to drag it out. He didn't care about your life. He never does. He only ever cares about his damn experiments. He's been leading you on, from the moment he met you. Trying to see how far a friendship could stretch.' _John couldn't live without him, that much had been made very clear over the last month, but he couldn't live like this either.

Sherlock took a deep breath, preparing himself for a punch in the face or some very loud abuse, and walked in 221B and up the stairs. He slowly walked into the living room and towards John. What he got was much worse.  
"Get out." John said quietly when he saw Sherlock.  
"John, I'm sor-  
"Get. Out."  
"I _had_ to pretend to die. To save you." Didn't John get it? He had to protect him, and he was sorry, but he couldn't have stopped it.  
"I don't care about that. I said, get out."  
"But John-"  
"Didn't you hear me? I don't want to look at you, Sherlock. I don't want to talk to you or be around you. So leave." Sherlock's newfound heart was breaking. He didn't understand."  
"John. What is wrong? I thought…" He couldn't continue. He just couldn't.  
"You lied, didn't you? You're a sociopath, Sherlock. You don't care at all. This is just another damn experiment for you. Sorry, but your experiment is ruined."  
"Wha-"  
"Because I lied too."


	5. Voicemail Hurts

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something and then closed it in shock. He didn't know what John was talking about, but he understood one thing. John lied. He lied about wanting to solve murders, he lied about wanting to share a flat, he lied about caring that Sherlock was dead. Oh God, he lied about caring for Sherlock at all. Sherlock walked towards his bedroom and quietly shut the door. He tried to lean against the wall for support, but his legs betrayed him and he crumpled to the floor. Sherlock loved him. But he didn't love Sherlock.

John heard a thump on the floor and summed up all his self-control and went to check if Sherlock had knocked his bookshelf down. He walked in and didn't see anything, until he heard soft sounds coming from the floor. He looked down and saw Sherlock sobbing into his knees leaning against the wall.  
"Sherlock?" He asked tentatively  
"I am fine, Dr Watson." Sherlock replied in an shaky tone. John took another look at him and his resolve collapsed. He sank down next to Sherlock and put his arm around him.  
"Sherlock, I…I didn't mean it."  
"Then why would you say it, John? Why did you say any of it? I don't understand, I-" John held Sherlock to his chest  
"I didn't know, Sherlock. I thought you.." Sherlock pulled away and stared at John  
"You thought I made it all up? You thought I was lying to you?" He paused and said quietly "You thought I didn't care about you? You thought that this was all a disguise, a social experiment? How could you think that, John?…I love you" John leant in and kissed him. He couldn't bear seeing Sherlock like this. It was so different, and wrong, and scary. When they finally broke apart, John just held Sherlock against him, and let him cry. It hurt him, but Sherlock needed to.

Sherlock sobbed into John's chest, finally feeling all the emotions he had repressed his entire life. Every time someone had tried to leave him or make him leave. His father, his school peers, his coworkers, Lestrade and now John. But he cared most about John. He couldn't let John leave. Anyone, anyone but John.  
"Please don't make me go."  
"I won't, Sherlock. I'm so sorry."  
"Don't leave."  
"I won't."  
"Promise me, John. Please promise me you won't leave."  
"I promise, Sherlock. I won't." There was a long, comforting silence.  
"Do you want some tea? Or coffee?" Sherlock almost laughed. John was all about hot beverages.  
"I just want to stay like this." Sherlock admitted after a long silence. John kissed the top of his head  
"Yeah. Me too." Sherlock clung to John, happy that he finally found someone who he did not have to hide anything. Suddenly, he remembered seeing John on the roof of the hospital. He grabbed John fiercely and cried even harder.  
"Sherlock? Sherlock, what is it, what's wrong? Sherlock? Sherlock!" John held Sherlock at arms length, worried eyes scanning his face.  
"Don't. Don't you ever do that again." Sherlock managed to say.  
"I thought you were lying, Sherlock. I'm sorry, I didn't-"  
"I couldn't…You were at the edge and I- Don't you ever…" Sherlock gave up trying to explain.  
"Sherlock, listen to me. I thought you were dead. I didn't want to…Check your voicemail."  
"What? Why?"  
"Just do it." Sherlock grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialled his voicemail. One message from the day that…Oh. One message from the day John tried to overdose. With shaking hands, he pressed the phone to his ear, scared of what he might hear.  
**_"Sherlock? It's me, John. I'll see you soon, mate. And when I do, I can tell you everything. Everything I've needed to tell you for so long. I love you, Sherlock."  
_**"I was making coffee. I came back and I got a text from Mycroft. He told me that you were about to be admitted to hospital. I shouldn't have missed-I should've answered the call. If I had, you wouldn't have-I'm so sorry, John."  
"It's fine."  
"No, it's not! You almost died! I could've prevented that! And I didn't."  
"You didn't know."  
"I should've."

John almost started crying himself, but he had to be there for Sherlock. Sherlock needed him. John stroked his hair and whispered things like  
"It'll be fine. It's not your fault. I forgive you. I'm sorry and I love you. I promise. I promise I won't leave, Sherlock. I promise, I love you." He held Sherlock until they both fell asleep.


	6. We've Got a Network to Destroy

John woke up with Sherlock still in his arms and looked at the clock on the wall. It was midday and they both should really be getting up and doing things, but he couldn't leave this and they didn't have anything to get back to anyway. After a few more minutes like that, he thought he should probably let Lestrade know that he was wrong and Sherlock was never a fake and he should definitely punch Anderson and Donovan in the face. Multiple times. With a chair. He tried to slowly, gently move Sherlock off him but to no avail.  
"John?"  
"Mmm?"  
"Where were you going?" John could see panic all over his face. Oh God, Sherlock thought John was leaving him.  
"It's midday, Sherlock."  
"And?"  
"I should probably try and get my job back."  
"Why?"  
"So I can earn money, to buy food and pay rent and do other normal human things…?"  
"Oh. I thought…Never mind."  
"Sherlock, I wasn't leaving you. I promised." John smiled at him reassuringly and Sherlock finally relaxed. "Anyway, we should probably let Lestrade-"  
"NO!" Sherlock shouted, scaring John. "THEY WON'T JUST KILL YOU, BUT HIM AND MRS HUDSON TOO…I can't, _we_ can't tell them yet."  
"Oh. Sorry. I forgot."

"We, _I _have to defeat Moriarty's soldiers."  
"Hold on. _We _have to defeat them. _Together. _I'm not letting you run off on your own. You might do something stupid like get yourself killed. I'm not letting that happen."  
"John."  
"Where do we start?"  
"John."  
"D'you reckon they'll all be in Britain or will we have to go overseas?"  
"John!" John finally shut up and looked at Sherlock  
"Yes?"  
"You have to let me do this."  
"Are you insane, Sherlock? I'm not going to leave you alone."  
"John." Sherlock said warningly  
"You're not leaving me. You, you can't. You promised. You promised, Sherlock!" Sherlock couldn't stand seeing John so hurt and he gave up. At least this way, if either of them got hurt the other would know immediately. He kissed John and said softly  
"I promised, John. I won't leave you. I promise."  
"Thank you." Sherlock pulled John up with him and walked to the kitchen to make coffee. It was unusual for him to do anything, but this was a very unusual situation. Also, he would do anything for John, so making coffee wasn't really that much of a big deal.  
"When do we start?" John interrupted the silence "Today?"  
"It's rather soon, don't you think?"  
"The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can punch Anderson and Donovan in the face. By the way, you were on the telly a while ago. People were protesting. For you. Saying they believed in you. Isn't that good?"  
"I saw. They know nothing about it."  
"Yeah, but they're trying."  
"They shouldn't."  
"What? They were just trying to help-"  
"THEY SHOULDN'T! DON'T YOU SEE?" Those stupid protesters were ruining everything! Why couldn't John understand? "THEY ARE BRINGING ATTENTION TO ME! MORIARTY'S SOLDIERS WILL HAVE SEEN THAT! THEY COULD'VE FIGURED OUT THAT I AM ALIVE!" His voice dropped to little more than a whisper "They could've killed you."

John rushed towards Sherlock just before he broke down and wrapped his arms around the shaking man.  
"Come on, Sherlock. We've got a network to destroy."


End file.
